Disclaimer to follow; I was nervous posting before and forgot as I posted in a rush.
AN: Yes it's going slow. I like slow. I want to try and create the mood that they really have been waiting and yearning for years, that they have that almost magical (hahaha) aura you have when you touch the object of your desire for the first time... Also I am trying to write correctly, I think it isn't flowing enough but please let me know your thoughts, thank you.
Disclaimer; All characters, Hogwarts, etc belong to JKR. I am but a smutty bystander. Smutty.
Touching her was like touching fire, his hands burned at the joy of it. A thousand desires moaned into his pillow came to fruition in his arms. She was illicit, untouchable, here, whispering pleas into his mouth. The need of her had danced over his soul so many times he had grown used to the dull ache of it- resigned to the knowledge that she was, for him, fantasy only.
His thoughts were mirrored in her… she hoped he felt the years of her obsession pouring into him from her, that he could somehow understand how the feel of him with his hands cradling her head, controlling her mouth, was the most bittersweet sensation she had ever had the ability to feel. At any moment she expected him to dissipate into another unfulfilled dream, leaving her panting and unsated.
They stopped the kiss, lips separating slowly. Each searched the face of the other. Each waited for the moment of waking to unwillingly part them. Long moments passed and both were still undeniably present and real; palpable, hot, reeking of desire and holding back by the last of their reserves.
Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head against his.
"…Please…" She whispered desperately, clutching at his collar with both hands in shaking fists. A heartbeat later she was lifted by her waist and found herself for one bewildering moment in the air before landing with a soft exhalation on her soft bed. Startled, she looked towards her old professor.
He had kicked off his shoes and socks, his hands were at the last of his shirt buttons. He walked towards her, pulling it off, letting it drop to the floor.
He had the most wonderful torso, still as slender as she remembered from her days of caring for him; the wiry muscles were there- the hairs, now greying, leading down below his trousers, his nipples dark against his pale skin. He was powerful; the numerous scars faded since she last saw them, but marking him as a survivor. As he knelt on the bed and started to crawl towards her she absently began tracing her own scars. His hand joined hers and she almost jumped at the touch. He leaned into her and she allowed herself to fall back into the bed, his silver-streaked hair caressing her face as his hands guided hers over her head.
She arched her body to try and touch his; he didn't allow it but took the moment to savour the sight of her beautiful, strong body writhing under him. She was like him; pale and scarred but perfect. Her breasts were tipped with her painfully hard nipples- rosy bundles of nerves calling him to them. He followed the call and dropped his head to pull one delicate bud into his mouth.
She almost screamed, the anticipation of his touch had driven her senses into a haywire, nuclear powerhouse. As his tongue rolled over her nipple she wondered how she didn't simply explode, she felt as though the white-hot waves of pleasure should have been visible through her skin. He pulled more of her breast into his mouth and nipped at her with his teeth; the pleasure crested to pain and back again in a moment of wonderful ecstasy.
He gave out a muffled groan at the whimpers she made as he worried at her breast, he was so ready to enter her that his trousers had become painful; his hardness pressed against the unforgiving material, he could feel it had become damp with his essence. A myriad possibilities flooded his mind; him atop her, thrusting with wild abandon, or taking her from behind, or having her riding above him, or her delicate mouth over his manhood, or his tongue exploring her most sensitive area…
He pushed himself off of her and yelled in inarticulate frustration. He balled his hands into fists and pressed them to his forehead as he caught his breath. He wanted to explore all of her, to map and claim each landmark of her body. He needed to hear all of the ways in which he could coax his name from her lips... the idea of one quick fumble- never to touch her again afterwards- filled him with a kind of madness.
Silence descended over the pair.
"Severus…" she said softly. "Please, don't stop now, I… I can't describe how it feels to have you touch me." He opened his eyes and looked at her, she was tracing and retracing a small pattern in the bedcovers, avoiding his gaze.
"I don't think I could go away from you and not go mad, now… now I know you want the same." A shining, fat tear wobbled and dropped from her downcast eyes. "Gods, I feel so stupid," she admitted, "the years I've wasted wondering… Merlin, this is embarrassing…" she stopped herself to peek at him, and was taken aback to see his black eyes shining slightly with reciprocated emotion. He leaned toward her, a fierce look on his face.
"I want to touch you. I want to do so many things to you, with you, for you. Don't think now that you are here that I will let you go after one quick fuck, Ms. Granger." he spat. He watched her reaction; she licked her lips and her breathing sharpened, he closed the last few inches between them and caught her mouth with his, when she responded by trying to climb on top of him he laughed, a sound which took both of them by surprise.
"It's good to hear you laugh," Hermione whispered. A sombre look flitted across the professor's face before he allowed himself the ghost of a smile.
"It's rare but it's been known to happen," he quipped.
"Maybe I'll hear it again?" She replied, and fixed her gaze in his meaningfully, "We have all night…"